


here's to the afterlife

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, i didnt revise this at all, so have fun reading this trainwreck, this is mostly just frisk's internal dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the past never ceases, and we live on.
Relationships: Frisk & Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	here's to the afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> quarantine is leading me to revisit my middle school obsessions, and sadly one of those is undertale. writing this drabble thing so i can hopefully throw it back into the cringey phase bucket and be done!!!!
> 
> mostly just me projecting shit onto characters, not super happy with the ending but iiii don't wanna work on this anymore lol
> 
> trigger warning for unhealthy coping mechanisms, some self-harm, abuse, and trauma. please read at your own caution <3

sometimes frisk wondered why the other kids at school would wrap their arms around their parents so abruptly. every time the bell rang, they would run out the door and shove themselves into an adults embrace, or wrap their arms tightly around their legs. it looked weird. frisk was thankful they never had to do that.

sometimes they wondered why momma smelled so bitterly. she would come home and ramble about a man she met, frisk listening absentmindedly because each story sounded just as similar as the last, and the question of why would someone want to be near such a smell rested on the tip of their tongue with every occassion.

sometimes frisk would lift the window of their room and crawl out to look for the stars. the teachers at school talked about the little shapes and dots that would come out at night, of stories and history behind each star and how they might've exploded but we'd never quite know because they're so vastly far away. frisk had begged momma to buy a telescope for the stars, and she said the shapes in the sky never really existed. they were just made to lead on oblivious children like frisk to think balls of gas had any meaning. 

frisk hadn't gone out the window since then.

momma started coming home when the lamps on the street turned on and the sky turned black. most times, she would walk past frisk and close the bedroom door before they could ask for her to make chicken fingers for dinner. frisk was hungry. so, so hungry. they tugged open the fridge door and ate the single apple left on their side of the fridge. they tore through the pantry and ate from jars of spreadables that tasted of a tangy staleness. frisk searched, and searched, and couldn't find anymore food. their stomach twisted. it cried and stuck to their ribs, and so they stumbled their way towards the door, small hands twisting the lock.

sometimes frisk would remember the sensation of their gut sucking in out of hunger. after most meals toriel would make, a phantom of discomfort would wash over them. sometimes they would find theirself crouching over the toilet and vomiting because food was a foreign object that didn't belong in their stomach, and would promptly scrub their hands for extended periods of time out of disgust for their vomit sessions. toriel continued making grand and filling meals, and frisk would never dare say a word to hint that she was making it worse. she didn't deserve that.

things were finally normal for everyone. they had all made it to the surface. asgore seemed content with his newfound flower gardens. alphys and undyne lived in a hilariously contrasting house of anime posters and deadly spears. grillby had an entirely new bar that looked even better than the old place. papyrus and sans somehow managed to have snow on their roof in the middle of summer. they were all happy.

frisk would still attend the friday bonfires that the town held. they would press whatever smile they could muster on their face and stand absentmindedly at the edge of the group, holding a plate of grilled food and staring up at the sky because everything else was too much to look at.

the mountain's altitude still wasn't enough to see the stars. clouds scattered across the sky and blurred the moon, leaving a simple blank slate of pitch black to stare at. frisk found it disorienting. it mesmerized them, and the thought crossed their mind that maybe the dots and shapes were gone. maybe they exploded, and only now was frisk truly able to see that.  
they knew he was still watching them. he was still wary. they hadn't spoken to him since the underground was abandoned. they couldn't bring theirself to. the fact that he knew crippled whatever semblance of speech frisk had and left them wondering if everyone else knew, too. a part of frisk wanted, needed it to be true, so the lump of guilt sitting at the pit of their heart could be given confirmation. frisk needed confirmation that they were still terrible. they needed confirmation that just because they all don't remember doesn't mean frisk deserved to continue living with them. frisk needed to know they were selfish. they needed to know they were manipulative.

the bonfire still crackled aimlessly beneath their gaze. the food had gone cold in their grasp. an urge to wash their hands arose with the awareness of the plate of their hand, an itching sensation that needed to be cleansed away.

he still watched. frisk vaguely noticed him sifting through the crowd towards them with a pace of slight urgency, and stiffened where they stood. they wondered if this would be the confrontation. if he would recite exactly what frisk imagined him saying when nights became long and their room became uncomfortably stuffy.

it was selfish, wishful thinking.

he stood next to them, following their disassociated gaze to the blank slate sky. frisk subconsciously held their breath.

"not too many stars out tonight, huh, kid?"

they became acutely aware of the plate that was still in their hands. selfish, selfish, selfish.

"i've got a telescope, y'know," he said, "i bet you we could see em' if we brought it up the hill."

frisk opened their mouth to respond, but their throat closed up and they weren't sure what to say in the first place.  
.  
"c'mon, kiddo." an arm wrapped around their shoulders and lead them away from the stuffy bonfire. the plate was discarded on the grass. they let him guide them.

sometimes frisk wondered how different things would be if they never reset. sometimes frisk would fall into a spiral of daydreams where asriel lived the first time, and sans would never know what the resets were, and they would never have the memory of what each person's corpse looked like. it was selfish, to think of such a perfect ending.


End file.
